


The Murderer is Among Us Now

by Emmy



Category: Agatha Christie's Poirot (TV), Among Us (Video Game), Poirot - Agatha Christie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:48:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28245678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmy/pseuds/Emmy
Summary: If the world's greatest detective were alive in 2020 and unable to go out to detect, what indignities might he be willing to suffer to keep his little gray cells sharp?
Comments: 81
Kudos: 152
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	The Murderer is Among Us Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GhostJ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostJ/gifts).



“I have gathered you all together in this room-” 

“-didn’t Miss Lemon send out the actual zoom invite-” Mrs. Oliver interjected. 

Poirot ignored her magnificently. “-to discuss a terrible problem: the lack of crime during the pandemic.”

There was a silence that had nothing to do with lag. Japp was the first to break it. 

“How’s that a bad thing again? Scotland Yard’s been over the moon about the drop in homicide, assault, and burglary numbers.”

“Ah!” Poirot raised a commanding finger. “Because it is an _artificial_ decline, my dear Japp. Right now, the criminals of the world are just like us, stuck inside during the quarantine. Their nearest and dearest are in grave danger, yes, but the masses have an illusion of safety brought about only by the current constraints. There are no innocent-seeming errands, no carefully planned ‘spontaneous’ meetings, no cover of crowds and with contact tracing, no faked alibis that can hold the water.” 

“What about the masks, though?” Hastings asked. “Surely the fact that everyone’s got to wear one will make the scoundrels a touch more bold.”

“Oh, _mon ami_ , as usual you provide the clearest insight-” Hastings brightened “-into the common man’s point of view, and as usual it is incorrect. The mask merely obscures the _face._ It does nothing to conceal the motive.”

“Right, of course,” Hastings said flatly. 

“Already, there is a vaccine! One created, you will note, by my fellow immigrants and being produced in my own homeland of Belgium. Soon, all too soon, the criminals will emerge from their quarantine and begin to steal and swindle and even murder once more. They may think that the police will be caught still napping from their long hibernation. They may even have the effrontery to believe that I, Hercule Poirot, will have the senses that are dulled by the hiatus imposed upon me. But _non_!” Poirot thrust his chest out, inadvertently allowing the camera angle to highlight his nose hair more than his famous mustaches. 

“I have devised a method to keep the little gray cells sharp as ever, and I will require all of you to contribute! But _mes amis,_ do not fear that I will ask you to break the quarantine. This can all be done remotely, starting this very evening!”

At that, Hasting’s phone buzzed with multiple notifications from the WhatsApp chat he shared with Mrs. Oliver, Miss Lemon, and Inspector Japp. Poirot refused to take part, claiming to be too offended by the ungrammatical and inelegant name to sign up. It certainly had nothing to do with how long it took him to tap out messages on his phone.

_Honestly, it’s this or throw another murder into my draft to make wordcount and I’m completely out of ideas for new ways to kill off my characters._

_Why not? It’s billable hours._

_Suppose it’ll keep me out of the wife’s hair for a bit. She says she likes having me home more but not if I keep leaving boots and papers about._

\----

“Now, I have studied the instructions on the internets for this game, and the mechanics are quite simple. Allow me to explain them to you. The murder is not yet committed, but the murderer…” Poirot paused for emphasis... “is among us now!”

“Right, yes. That’s- that’s the name of the game, old chap.”

Poirot frowned. “You are familiar with it?”

All four nodded in unison, their heads bobbing up and down on his screen with a pleasing symmetry. 

“My boy and his friends are mad about it,” Japp said. 

“I heard about it on mystery writer Twitter,” Mrs. Oliver added. “Not that I’m on there much, of course, because I have a deadline.”

“It comes up when searching murder cases with an increasing frequency,” said Miss Lemon, frowning. “I haven’t yet figured out how to filter those memes, but I will.” 

“I’m hosting a discord and we play it there,” Hastings said proudly. “I’m even tinkering with a way to handle the muting more smoothly. In fact, if we wanted to all sign into my discord server instead-”

“Hastings, for the last time, I will not join your discord! It has no order and method! The very name betrays its chaotic nature!” Poirot drew in a deep breath. “We will use the zoom, and I will set up the game now.”

“Oh, I’ve already created a private lobby and optimized the settings,” Miss Lemon said. “I’m putting the code into chat now.”

“Ah.” Poirot adjusted something on his desk. “Your efficiency is as pleasing as ever, Miss Lemon. _Épatant_ , we shall commence.”

  
  


\----

“But what would be the motivation for Japp to be the murderer? It is not enough that you say you have seen him near the body.”

“Ah, well, in this game that is all you need, Poirot,” Hastings said apologetically. “Imposter- er, murderer is assigned at the beginning.”

“Very well,” Poirot replied stiffly. “Then I will confine my investigation to simple- what is this? Why is it asking us to vote? I have barely begun to question the suspects!”

“Oh, just pick someone to airlock,” Mrs Oliver said cheerfully. “That’s what I always do. It gets boring otherwise, and even a false accusation peps things right up!”

Japp unmuted to chime in. “That’s right, in this one you don’t even need evidence! Makes quite a nice change from the old day job, eh?” 

Poirot hissed like an angry cat and hit his mute button heavily as the voting timer ran out. 

\--- 

“Miss Lemon, I ask again, how is that you have no opinion on who the murderer might be?” 

“Well I’m sorry Monsieur Poirot, but as far as I’m concerned the object of the game is to complete the tasks as efficiently as possible, and that’s what I was doing.” 

\---

“Mrs Oliver! Why did you not report the body at once?”

“I really did mean to,” Mrs. Oliver said, her words slightly muffled by the clacking of her keyboard. “But I was wandering around and suddenly the setting gave me an idea. Do you think it’s remotely plausible that Sven Hjerson would travel to space?”

  
  


\----

“Oi, Poirot, my boy says you’re the one who’s sus this round.” 

“Sus? What is this _sus?”_ Poirot demanded, his eyes narrowing as Japp chuckled. “How is it that you expect me to speak both Français and the English but allow yourselves to make up words out of the thin air?”

“It just means suspicious,” Hasting interjected soothingly. “It’s quite a popular phrase among the younger players. I've picked up a fair amount of their slang myself, but then I have always been rather handy with dialects."

" _Mais tu n’as même pas pris la peine de faire apprendre le français_ ,” Poirot muttered.

"Sorry, what was that? Didn't quite understand it."

" _Précisément_."

  
  


\----

“Poirot, you’re a ghost. You can’t solve the murder now because- well because you obviously know who killed you. I’m afraid it’s curtains for you, old chap.” 

“That makes not a whit of sense! If this were real, I would be able to lay a trap for the murderer even from beyond the grave! _Tchah_!” Poirot had clearly reached new levels of feline rage. “Enough! This game does not allow me to exercise my full abilities.”

“I could try adjusting the settings,” Hastings offered. “Maybe if there was a longer kill cooldown? You’d still need to focus on proximity instead of psychology, of course, but-”

“ _Nom d’un nom d’un nom!_ Then it is settled! I shall turn my attention back to historical crimes to keep the little gray cells sharp, and we will never darken the lobby of this travesty again!”

There was a pause. 

“It was rather fun, though,” Mrs. Oliver said wistfully. “It is nicer solving crimes when you don’t have to make them up first. Much more relaxing.” 

Japp snorted. “I expect it is.” He glanced off-screen. “My boy wants to give me tips, but of course if we’re giving up on the whole thing…” He trailed off.

“It’s a shame, as I had just figured out the timing for the switches,” Miss Lemon added. 

“And I think I’ve found a way to let the ghosts talk to each other,” Hastings added eagerly. “In zoom, even.”

Poirot looked from each neat box containing the face of a friend to the next, and felt an unexpected warmth in his chest. He made a note to wear an extra muffler on his next trip to the mailbox in case it was a symptom of _le Covid_ , but for the first time in weeks he was not overly concerned about the virus. 

“Ah, _mes amis_ , you make excellent points. Perhaps I have been too hasty. Shall we say… tomorrow, at 8?” There was a chorus of enthusiastic assents. Poirot beamed. “ _Très bien_! Then it is settled. Tomorrow, we have an appointment with death!”

  
  



End file.
